


Seriously, What does It Take For These Konoha Shinobi to Keep Their Noses Out of Things? | One-Shot

by Ivyshade



Category: Naruto
Genre: A Spicy Interaction, I'm Bad At Tagging, Mild Language, OC, Rewrite, non-canon elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:06:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29314554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ivyshade/pseuds/Ivyshade
Summary: Basically, I was cleaning out my drive when I found this document titled “Hahahaha.....no” written over a year ago. The title puzzled me since it gave no indication of its contents and I had no recollection of it. Curious, I read it and...oh god...it was an awful one-shot with a boring, overpowered oc and a weird dynamic with the characters from the show.Bored and in a creative mood, I decided that I should probably fix this—as best I could.





	Seriously, What does It Take For These Konoha Shinobi to Keep Their Noses Out of Things? | One-Shot

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ: There’s a lot of elements in this that’s non-canon, so don’t @ me if I got something wrong because I’m likely aware of it. I will take constructive criticism.
> 
> Originally, my character was from this made up village called “The Village Hidden Among The Shadows” / Kagegakure which I know is super emo, but I thought it was funny so I kept it. I’m definitely NOT the first person to come up with a village called Kagegakure, (I know this because I looked it up to make sure), but I assume that it’s like warrior cats where there’s a thousand fan made clans called FireClan so whatever...
> 
> Also, I made up the entire idea of Jōnin competitions—I will not explain what it is.

***Warning — Mild Language; read at your own risk***

— _This takes place around the “Twelve Guardian Ninja Arc” in Naruto Shippuden—_

* * *

_Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit._

**Before going through the trials of life, one must always remember this crucial detail:**

_Are you kidding me!? Are you_ kidding _me?_

**If you ever feel the need to repeat something;**

_Those idiots are_ sooooo _dead when I get my hands on them._

**One of you is stupid.**

_And right now, doomed for the grave._

Quicker than the three dolts even sensed she passed, the cloaked figure grabbed the dagger from the blonde kid’s hand. She was so swift her black cloak was only a flicker, her glove a trick of the light, her touch as a subtle as a mere tingle. The woman delicately landed herself in front of the group, boots kicking up little dust. 

Even with the weapon gone, they were still gazing down at the blonde boy’s hand. Eyebrows creased in wonder at the strange object they had found. A strong breeze flew through their clothes as the wind caused by her strides came barreling through; that’s when they finally realized something was wrong. Their eyes all widened in shock as their brains caught up to speed. The group stood there for a moment, considering if they were all going insane. 

With arms crossed, the stranger tapped her foot angrily. A small cloud of dust spiraled out with each tap. Twirling the dagger in hand, she waited for the three _complete fucking idiots_ to sense her infuriated presence. 

Light gleamed off the pieces of metal on their heads as they had turned. She had immediately noticed the signature engraving on their forehead protectors—a stylized leaf. It was clear like her they were ninja, making their next reactions quite unprofessional, and Blondie was the unfortunate one to look up first. He saw her, then proceeded to jump 5 feet in the air followed ungracefully by the other two.

So, they were all Konoha ninja huh? _Should’ve known, with the entitled way they picked up the kunai. Seriously, what does it take for these Konoha shinobi to keep their noses out of things!?_

“YEEEEOOOOOOOOWW!!!!” screeched Blondie, his already spiked hair becoming extra porcupine-like. The other two’s hair spiked similarly. 

One of the other dolts had spiky brunette hair—though more tamed than Blondie’s—and the other had big, poofy silver hair—though he appeared way too young to be old; possibly in his late twenties, early thirties? Strangely, the silver-haired man seemed recent and familiar to her, and he reminded her of the competitions she partook in the week prior. In fact, he was the man she defeated in the final battle. She didn’t remember his name, but she did recall how easy it took to knock him out. 

Blondie looked to be about 15. He had obnoxious spiked hair, and 3 black lines etched on each side of his face like cat whiskers. An enormous mouth came along with blue eyes as big as his own fist. She figured one of the older men with him had to be his sensei, as any random minor with two random adults examining a knife would be concerning.

The brunette was unassuming, except for the fact he had what looked like an upside-down bucket on his head. He was about the same age as Silver-hair, and like his partner, wore a dark green vest customary of his village. 

How these three could have ever possibly come across _this_ knife, _especially_ Fire country was beyond impossible. She had imagined she had seen everything, yet the world always continued to catch her off guard.

The cloaked woman grumbled and shook her head. _Let’s get back to the problem,_ she reminded herself. Boiling her anger, she pointed the dagger an inch from Blondie’s face and yelled, “WHERE DID YOU FIND THIS!?”

“AHHH!!!!!”, Blondie screamed incoherently, tumbling over his sandals to get away from the blade.

“WHERE DID YO-“

“Hey, hey, wait just a minute”, interrupted the boy, quickly forgetting about her outburst. The tension suddenly changed with it, “Aren’t you the person who defeated Kakashi-sensei in the Jōunin competitions?!?!”

_Oh…_ —So apparently the all-too familiar looking man with poofy silver hair was _the_ Hatake Kakashi. 

Blondie gestured wildly with his hands, “You owe him a proper battle!”

The teen’s sensei gazed at her. She could almost feel his infamous sharingan eye burn through his make-shift eyepatch. His visible black eye peered at her under a crinkled eyebrow. “Ah, so you’re the one who put me in a coma for 3 hours”, said the man, “Yeah, that was a pretty lame fight.” Though his eye glittered with animosity, his posture and tone of voice suggested that he was entirely ok with that.

Huh, funny how she hadn’t noticed. Funny how she hadn’t noticed she had gone up against the feared Copy-cat ninja himself—the one with assassins always on his back for the price over his head and the blood on his name. The one she had always been told to eliminate first if the Konoha and Kage ever went to war. And, after all that training and knowledge, the repeated warnings, out of all the people she had to piss off, he had to be one of the worst. _Oh the irony._

With a sudden but small curiosity, she wondered what would’ve happened had he used his eye at their last battle. _Stupid question,_ she thought, _I would’ve been obliterated, and my village would’ve been Konoha’s new punching bag._ Instead—somehow—as the representative of Kagegakure in the competitions, she possibly started something for better or worse for her village. All she wanted was to get the competition over with, and yet she just _had_ to win _that_ battle. For all she knew, she made Konoha begin to take Kage seriously—or have them turn their greedy eyes and make Kage their new target. After all, no village could ever be as powerful as Konoha.

Shaking her from her thoughts, the bright blond teen scrambled off the ground, bursting forth words like the loud chorus of a toad, “ _Yeah_ , it was soooooooo lame”, agreed Blondie, “It lasted, like, not even a second.”

_I’m here, waving potentially one of the most dangerous weapons in their friend’s face and their only concern is whether the battle was_ fair? “So? Not my problem. You should’ve been faster and payed more attention. Anyways wHE—“

“ _Excuse_ me? Faster? Payed more attention? The proctor had literally just said begin!”, boomed Kakashi, doing a complete 180. He had brought up his hands over his head, and his face wrinkled in a sudden rage. This explosion of anger shocked both Blondie and Bucket-head as they kept blinking at him as if saying _“What have you done with the real Kakashi?”_ Was it seriously their first time seeing him angry? The fact that his defeat had pissed him off _,_ meant she was only in deeper trouble…

But, did that stop her? No. She was a woman who loved to get under people’s skin, and if you let her, she would bite. 

Her inner self grinned maniacally. Was she possibly getting herself killed? Yes, but at least she would be out of the hell-hole of a world. Her old, precautious self was being consumed by her pride, washing away any fear and worry for her safety. This side of her was young, and not often used, not that she was allowed. Her tongue twisted as it formed the words she used well, “Yeah? So? In a real battle there’s no one there to say ‘begin’ for you.” Her manner was matter-of-fact—the typical way to nip at someone’s anger.

Fire brimmed in his eye. Under his signature mask, she could almost see him grit his teeth as words of anger boiled in his throat. _Good, his poor, poor ego is hurt…_

“Yeah, but how could I have possibly known you would move that fast!? Isn’t the point of exaggerated fights the whole idiocracy of the competitions!? 

“That is exactly why you should always be prepared! And how can you stand long ass fights!? It’s only for the villages to show off! They’re just using you.”

“I know about that! You think I like being used that way!?

“If you truly know and hate it, then why are you so mad? Shouldn’t you be grateful I took you out so easily, Mr. Kakashi of the Sharingan!?”

Could she have known about the major defeats he had recently submitted to? The fact that his two students had surpassed him embarrassingly quickly. That he had been out of commission to rescue his former one? That his students all left him for other teachers? Unexplained trauma? That all this could have pushed him over the edge?—no. Would she have cared had she known—also no. 

As a citizen of Kagegakure, it was nature to not care. The only loyalties they had to common decency was for their village, but no person.

Blondie had the bright idea to try to calm the argument with more and louder screaming: “STOP SCREAMING!!!” Blondie said, whilst screaming, but yet again quickly changing in tone, “Also, why are you here?” 

Blondie gasped, “Were you stalking us?!?” He clasped one hand on his round cheek, and waved his pointer finger towards her. His face contorted into what looked like fear mixed with _ooo, ooo, caught you red handed!_

Her face fell. Realization hit her, and her old precautious, frank self came bubbling back to the surface it had been lurking under. Yes, what in the world was she doing? Did she really want to end her life? The man looked on the verge of annihilating her. His eye was nearly flaming and his stance looked almost ready to strike. 

Besides she couldn’t die on this mission. If she died, she would forever be shunned by her village. Her name tainted, forever to be a warning to young genin to pray they were never sent on a foreign mission. Unlike most villages, Kagegakure didn’t see missions from outside as honorary—only necessary. It was noble for a Kage shinobi to die in battle, but preferably in the name and under the command of their village. One belief of Kagegakure was that allies always turned to enemies. Missions were only made out of necessity and to prevent war. 

Of course, _these_ shinobi would never understand that. Much of Konoha’s wealth came from these missions requested from outsiders and outside villages. With their closed mindedness, they'd find much of Kagegakure's ideologies flawed. They’d judge with their chin high and their eyes cast down—so dehumanizing as always. They wouldn’t see that most of Kagegakure’s wealth came from their exports. The mountainous terrain of her country held valued metals and minerals desired from every village.

This mission was only worthy for the reputation it gave. And if her village agreed to it, it only meant it was seriously worthy. 

She steadied herself, “I wasn’t stalking you, and how or why I’m here of your concern. Now, if you would please answer my question so I can continue my journey, Where. Did. You. Find. This?” the women said firmly, her annoyance sharpening with each syllable. She twirled the knife in front of Blondie’s face.

“Alright everyone calm down,” said Bucket-head raising his hands. He used his only-sane-person-in-the-room powers to attempt mediating the situation, but, being in the vicinity of three crazy people cancelled him out.

“Shut up Bucket-head,” she said pointing the knife toward the brunette, “Unless you have the knowledge I seek, don’t talk.”

“First, it’s Yamatō—“

“Second, technically you’re in Fire country near Konoha territory, so I think it is our concern why a Kage shinobi is in our borders. You also seem to be very concerned over that knife, which intrigues us. And third, since you won the competition, you’ve caught the attention of our village. So, in fact, it is in our right to question you.” 

_Wait, wasn’t he just about to murder me?_ She turned her gaze back at the man who had spoken. He was slouching again, hands in his pockets, and a tamed posture. Kakashi’s one eye creased in a smile and he raised his eyebrow as he finished, ending off his speech with the perfect topping. He, truly, was the master of wielding the matter-of-fact tone. She, of course, took this in many different ways.

_He just looked like he was going to kill me. What is he panning? Is there code beneath his words? Is he trying to get under my skin?_ He in fact, was getting under her skin. _He’s trying my own medicine against me, and it’s working!_

Reminded of Blondie’s uncanny change in tone, she quickly noted the common quality between the two, creating a stigma that would be shared through generations of Kagegakure—one that would also be handy for potential war: Konoha shinobi could swiftly be subject to major mood swings. 

What? She was unshakably loyal to her village, one that specifically specialized in espionage. Any small detail of the enemy was valuable, desirable, wealthy. 

Yamatō was in the background pouting and crossing his arms. She assumed this wasn’t the first time he had gotten ignored. She’d even forgotten his name for a moment...

And yet, the Copy-cat ninja himself had a point. She answered: “Fine. I’m on a mission for my village.”—truth—“This knife just belongs to a friend of mine”—lie—“which they lost when we were here for the competitions”—lie—“and I’m not sure whether I should be flattered or alarmed that Konoha is interested in Kage.” 

That definitely wasn’t her best work. It apparently was so bad that even Blondie looked at her skeptically. All three of them raised one eyebrow in creepy synchrony. Clearly, these ninja weren’t human.

Yamatō seized this perfect moment to speak. He over-exaggerated his speech, attempting to make his unmemorable nature more memorable. He pointed to her hand, “Yeah sure, and we’re all members of the Akatsuki. Who are you again, and why are you so concerned about that dagger?” 

Blondie finally spoke after somehow keeping quiet. He was barely containing the ecstatic energy in him, as demonstrated by his bouncing limbs and eager eyes. His face scrunched in a pouted manner.

“Yeeeah, how come you took it from me? That wasn’t very nice, lady”, whined Blondie.

“I don’t need to repeat myself,” she said sternly while turning to Yamatō, “I am a loyal member of Kagegakure and my mission is classified. I wouldn’t spill any matters of Kage to an outsider.”

Her stern tone made the three narrow their eyes. She wasn’t sure if Blondie was only doing because she took the knife, though she did notice that he changed his stance. Hatake had slipped his hands out of his pockets and Yamatō lowered his arms. The woman tensed. A rushing stillness silence fell over the glade they stood in. Screaming silence flooded their ears. This was the ninja stare down.

The silver-haired ninja spoke, shattering the infamous event. His silky words flowed through her ears and soaked into her mind. They chilled her, every alarm in her instincts telling her it wasn’t true. The words...they were the feared words no Kagegakure shinobi ever would want to hear. “If you were truly loyal, then you would’ve let me win.”

The words were of something she never comprehended to hear. _Disloyal? That was impossible!_ She was one of the most loyal ninja of her fleet. An obedient kunoichi. One who always carried out missions commissioned by her village. Who always followed orders. Sacrificed her life for the benefit of her village. Bit her tongue when she was forced to fight in the Jōunin Competitions. She had no friends, family; they got in the way. Her only family was the village. 

She was about to retaliate before something nagged at the back of her throat, pulling her words back into her throat. 

The unnamed women ignored Hatake. She tightened her grip on the knife’s short hilt. She would never betray her village; she wouldn’t tell them anything. She wouldn’t. 

_And yet._

She pressed the tip under the teen’s chin. The fear and anxiety came back into his eyes. Each ninja now had their hands on something sharp, and three of those were aimed for her. She wouldn’t kill the child. She wouldn’t betray her village.

And yet. Why didn’t she let him win? If he had won, it would have protected the village from Konoha’s preying gaze. It wouldn’t have made her a target—if _she_ was even a target. Is that why the village had sent her on this mission? Only the lowest of the low were ever given these missions. Did her village see her as a liability? Punishments of disloyalty ranged from torture to death, but they never did it publicly. Usually those traitors, if any, just...disappeared. Did they want to get rid of her? Was she a traitor?

She couldn’t stop the sounds echoing from her mouth. 

“This blade...this blade this is a very dangerous weapon. If it cuts you, you could either turn into a pile of golden dust, or it could leave a literal steaming cut on you that burns like the fiery depths of hell’s basement. Oh, only depending if I can even touch you with it...which I can. So that means if you move one single inch right now no matter which outlook happens to you, it’s gonna hurt like a motherfucker. How _you_ three didn’t get hurt gawking at it like it was some shiny rock is so incomprehensible to me. So, I’m gonna take it from you because little boys shouldn’t be playing with sharp objects, got it?”

_Did I seriously just say that?_

She did. She just threw it out there for the enemy to swat at with their dirty claws. Kagegakure’s secret weapon, never meant to leave Kagegakure, somehow was here and now the enemy knew of it. 

The three ninja widened their eyes. They didn’t expect her to say anything, especially to that degree. They expected her to unhinge and attack, not explain vital information. They looked at each other and then at the weapon, wondering with a thousand thoughts that only screamed at her sin. 

“GOT IT!?” She yelled, but her intent wasn’t to frighten, only to steady the swelling guilt in her gut.

“Y-yes, ma’am,” stuttered the once bright blond. His eager energy now washed away along with the color of his face. She was too close to him, knife pressed into the soft flesh of his chin. The angered woman tilted her head around to the other two men. They nodded slowly. Their kunai were placed back into their pouches, but they still didn’t relax their stances.

_Did I really spill those secrets?_

“Good…,” Her words dripped with venom. A new found hatred for these Konoha shinobi etching its way into her heart, “Now where did you find this pretty thing?”

Blondie raised a shaking finger, “R-right there.” She followed the line of sight to where the three men were standing before. A small scratch in the ground told her exactly.

“Hmph.” _Whoever left this here has probably mysteriously “disappeared”. These weapons are never missed or unaccounted for._ She turned back to the boy, “Now, what’s your name young man?”

“U-uzum-maki N-Naruto, ma’am.” For a moment, she paused. No one had called her _ma’am_ . She didn’t think of herself as quite in that level of respect. She didn’t like to think of herself as _old._

_Old_. She turned to the one resembling the hair color of an elder. The silver-haired ninja had settled back into his slouched posture and carefree air. She didn’t take any of that as a surrender. 

_Did I really just betray my village?_

She sighed, slipping the dagger into one fold in her black cloak, “Now Naruto...and company, I think it would be in everyone’s best interest if you all pretended this encounter never occurred, and you never found this shiny piece of metal. Now that I assume we’re all in agreement, I’ll take care of this and be on my way.”

“Excuse me, we’re not done with you,” said Yamatō, “Who are you?” 

But the girl was already nearing the edge of the trees. She didn’t look back. Not at the trembling teen named after a piece of food. Not the frantic man wearing a bucket on his head. Not _him._

In a blink she disappeared in the trees, already shunshining from branch to branch. Ever so slowly draining her chakra which each bound, sightless to the naked eye. Desperation to get out of the Land of Fire, to never come again.

_Am I a traitor?_

She kept rewinding and repeating those words. Sometimes in different variations, but all with the same meaning. Occasionally, whispers of the words her senseis and elders would rise out of the echoes. The speeches they so carefully brandished and executed each new child with. 

She was always told to listen carefully. To be Keen.

They always said if you ever needed to repeat something, then one of you was an incompetent weakling. An idiot. They would repeat things. They would emphasize that it was the children’s fault for not being keen enough. If you weren’t keen enough, you fell behind. If you fell behind, you were punished. If you were punished, you were expelled. Dropped like a cigarette, later to be crushed underfoot. Dismissed like a leaf in one’s path. And then, you were treated as death itself. 

People like that were the slums. The low of the low. They got the worst jobs. No one wanted to be the slums. No one wanted to be near the slums. They were forbidden to speak, they were seen as disgraceful for failing their village.

But, if you were just keen enough, you still weren’t safe from their critical hawk’s eyes and their sharp talons. You were punished if you didn’t keep up. You were tested if you were too far ahead. Those tests and punishments weren’t too far different when criticized together side by side. But, she was told never to think about that—and she didn’t. She was “ _an obedient kunoichi_ ” like they made her be. 

When in adulthood, those rules had been so burned into her skin she didn’t need those reminders. Ninja like her had been bred to take orders—at the sacrifice of their happiness, their life, their families, all for the village. Never were the scars of their childhood seen as cruel, they were honorable; noble for their journey to graduation. To being fully-fledged soldiers, molded to fit the ideal of the perfect subject. One that obeyed orders, and gave every drop of blood spilt for their village.

Kage shinobi didn’t need to bite their tongues when forced to fight in a simple competition. They would never claw at themselves for questioning even a single decision, because they never needed to; they were simply incapable of such. They would force themselves to feed off of 30 minutes of sleep, but never because they were afraid of what waited for them behind closed eye-lids. No.

“You still owe me another fight…” was all she last heard of _that_ man as she left. Hatake Kakashi of the Sharingan—the one who had possibly ruined her life with a few stolen seconds. _He_ was the one that forced her to say those words. He at first appeared unassuming with his cocky tone and thoughtless attitude, but he was swift to change. A mood that swayed and shifted like the reflection of a beam of light—clearly only the work of a true psychopath . All of Konoha’s people were psychotic in some form, but he was irritably insufferably, and devastatingly the worst. He somehow had managed to turn the idealistic soldier of any village’s dream to hypocrisy, anarchy!

Her world was twisting, shaping itself in the slightest way possible, yet in the most significant way. She just said the words of betrayal. Yes, she was the traitor, and he had ripped her loyalty from her. 

And, someday,

she was going to kill that man for it.


End file.
